“No, I want to talk with you about Connor Grantham. Confidentially.”

  “Everything that goes on around here is confidential.”

  “But it seems everyone in this town eventually learns everyone else’s business.”

  “You have a point, but we know the rules.”

  Liz told her about the meeting with Detective Norman, her conversation with Raul at the taqueria restaurant, and what she’d just learned from Bev Devon.

  “Connor doesn’t know what Raul or my landlady told me this morning,” Liz said. “I was going to bring it up when he and I are face-to-face.”

  “Because you want to see his reaction?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way. It just”—Liz paused to take a breath—“Seems like the kind of thing that should be shared in person, not over the phone or a text.”

  “Here’s my take. I know you like Connor, but he’s in for a rough time no matter what. He’s probably going to lose his job and his reputation.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I think too.”

  “Maybe you should focus on being his lawyer and put the rest of it on hold.”

  Going into her office, Liz stared at her computer screen. Concepts like innocent until proven guilty and evidence of guilt beyond a reasonable doubt made sense in law school. But the real world operated according to different standards.

  Placing the email from Ms. Hua on her desk, Liz called Elena.

  * * *

  Connor made his way down the mountain. He reached the boundary line for Burnt Pine Tree and saw the familiar “No Trespassing” sign nailed to a nearby tree. His feet crunched against the leaves and dead twigs that covered the ground. After zigzagging a few hundred yards, he realized that he’d veered south from his usual route and cut sharply to the left. In a hundred feet he encountered the shallow gully where he’d found the cell phone. He followed the ditch, kicking aside the leaves and dead organic material. All he uncovered was rotting leaves. He was about to move away when he saw something metal on the ground. It was painted white. Leaning over, he picked up an additional “No Trespassing” sign that had fallen from a tree or been pulled off by a trespasser. He carried the sign to his vehicle.

  Driving onto the Burnt Pine Tree property, Connor reached the lodge and parked beside Andy McNamara’s truck. Andy’s office was down a hallway to the left. The door was closed. Connor knocked.

  “Come in!” a voice replied.

  Andy was sitting behind a simple wooden desk with a laptop in front of him. “Connor!” he said with a surprised look on his face. “Where did you come from?”

  Connor held up the sign he’d found. “I was cutting across your property this morning after hiking up to Caldwell’s Knob and found this.”

  “Yeah, we lose those signs all the time. I think people steal them for souvenirs,” Andy said. “Hey, I just got off the phone with Reg. We’re really puzzled about you showing up on the surveillance video feed from the lodge on the day Matt Thompson died.”

  “From the lodge?” Connor asked. “I thought someone claimed I was in the woods near Matt, which is completely false. I wasn’t anywhere near that part of the property, and I never came into the lodge.”

  “The video I’m talking about wasn’t from inside. The camera is set up at the southeast corner of the building near the smokers where we cook a lot of our meats.”

  “Show me.”

  Andy tapped the keyboard of his laptop with his fingers. “I’m not sure I should do this because this was sent to us by the police to verify.”

  “Call Reg and ask him.”

  Andy picked up his cell phone, then placed it on the desk in front of him. The familiar voice answered via speaker.

  “Connor Grantham is here,” Andy said. “Should I let him see the video we discussed?”

  “He’s there now?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” Connor said. “I stopped by after hiking to Caldwell’s Knob.”

  “Go ahead and play the video,” Reg replied. “Connor, call me later.”

  There was an extra chair in the corner of the room. Andy positioned it so Connor could see the computer screen. His hands slightly sweaty, Connor sat down.

  “They didn’t seize them all at once, but eventually the GBI confiscated all the video recordings from the day of the accident,” Andy said.

  “You didn’t watch them before they took them?”

  “Only the ones from the trail cams in the area where Matt Thompson was supposed to be hunting.”

  Andy pressed a button on his keyboard.

  “What did those cams show?” Connor asked.

  “Nothing. They’re not panoramic. We focus on game trails. Thompson was supposed to set up near a spot where we put out a lot of deer corn. After the ambulance came, I checked the footage but never saw him come into frame.”

  “Reg told me Stan Maxwell was guiding him.”

  “That’s right. Stan was working because we had such a large group. He took them out in a four-wheeler and dropped Thompson off, then continued on with the other hunters.”

  “The sheriff’s department claims I showed up on some of the trail cam footage.”

  “I can’t confirm that, but like I said, there was a lot I didn’t look at before the police took everything away.”

  Connor leaned forward in the chair. Andy clicked on a file. The opening image was just as Andy described. It showed the corner of the building with a pair of large black smokers in the foreground, one emitting a visible stream of smoke. No one was in the frame. The date stamp on the video was 8:14 a.m. on the day Matt died. A figure dressed in a dark T-shirt and dark pants appeared and went up to one of the smokers.

  “That’s Raul Vasquez,” Andy said. “He used to work for us as a cook. He was in charge of the smokers.”

  “I remember him,” Connor said.

  Raul loaded some wood into the firebox and left. Over a minute passed.

  “Wait for it,” Andy said. “There!”

  Andy pointed his finger at the screen. In the left portion of the image, close to the edge, Connor appeared. He was wearing jeans, a red-checked flannel shirt, and a gray ball cap. He looked directly at the camera, then took a step to the left and disappeared.

  “Is that you?” Andy asked.

  “Yes,” Connor admitted. “And I’ve seen the smokers in operation a couple of times. But I wasn’t wearing that shirt, pants, and hat on the day Matt Thompson died. Someone has tampered with the date.”

  Andy gave him a skeptical look. “That’s not possible. It’s part of the image when created.”

  Chapter 34

  “Hello,” Elena said in a sleepy voice. “I hope this is important because you woke me up. I had a terrible time trying to fall asleep last night.”

  “Join the club,” Liz replied. “I was awake too.”

  “Why?”

  “Do you remember the video Connor took on his phone when he was hiking on the day Matt died? The one with the big male deer and a brief image of a man wearing an orange vest.”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “The other day Connor and a young boy were hiking in the same area and found a cell phone that may have belonged to the man Connor saw. I sent it to a forensics lab in California, and they were able to identify your number as a recent caller.”

  “Whose phone was it?” Elena asked in a more alert tone of voice.

  “I was hoping you might be able to help me figure that out.”

  Liz gave Elena the number. “Is that number listed as one of your contacts?”

  “Just a sec.”

  Liz tapped her index finger on her desk while she waited.

  “No, it’s not in my list.”

  Liz steadied herself before asking the next question. “Can you explain why the log for the cell phone Connor found lists calls coming from your cell number on two occasions? One, the day before Matt died, and then again the morning of the accident.”

  Elena was silent for a moment. “No,” she said in a calm voice. “I’m trying to remember who I called, especially the morning Matt went hunting. It could have been a lot of different people. With him out of the house, I spent a bunch of time on my phone.”

  “Is it possible you talked to someone who worked for Daughbert Technology? My first guess is the phone belonged to an employee of the company.”

  “Not that I remember, but it’s been weeks and weeks with so much happening in the meantime.”

  “Could you double-check and let me know?” Liz persisted. “No one else except for the people hunting was supposed to be on the property.”

  “Except Connor.”

  “Right.”

  “Can’t the cell phone provider tell you the name of the person who owns the phone?” Elena asked.

  “Not without a subpoena.”

  “Okay, I gotta go.”

  Elena abruptly ended the call before Liz could mention that Anne Thompson and Neil Peterson called the same number. That information would have to wait. Liz walked down the hall to see Harold. The senior partner listened closely.

  “I believe whoever dropped the phone worked for Daughbert Technology,” he said.

  “Yeah, that makes sense to me too.”

  “Do you still have access to the video Connor took?”

  “Yes.”

  Liz pulled up the video and handed her phone to Harold, who watched it. “There’s not much to work with, but maybe the company you contacted in California can do facial recognition enhancements,” he said. “If so, get them to blow up a partial image so we can determine if it matches anyone who works for Daughbert.”

  “I’ll ask. What do you make of Elena’s reaction to my questions? She brushed me off as if it wasn’t important and practically hung up on me.”

  “It’s either very suspicious or another example of Elena not being able to focus on a topic other than what’s on her mind at the moment.”

  * * *

  Connor explained to Reg why the surveillance video was incorrect.

  “I remember a day a couple of months ago when I took you back there to see the smokers,” Reg replied. “But I don’t recall what you were wearing.”

  “I don’t remember your shirt that day either. But I’m pretty sure I was wearing the red-checked shirt and gray hat in the video.”

  Reg was silent for a moment.

  “Do you believe I’m telling the truth?” Connor asked.

  “Connor, with all my heart I want to believe you.”

  Deflated, Connor didn’t know what else he could say.

  Reg continued. “The old footage from all the field cams and surveillance cameras is kept on a computer at the lodge for a year or so. That way the guides can track how the deer move across the property. I’m not sure how often they delete the old stuff.”

  Connor sat up straighter. “If it’s still there, we could figure out the day you showed me the smokers.”

  “And see if you show up in the video,” Reg said to finish the thought.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll drive out to the lodge as soon as we hang up,” Reg said, speaking rapidly. “When do you think we were out there?”

  Connor thought for a moment and narrowed it down to two possible dates.

  “It had to be a Friday or Saturday of one of those weekends,” he said.

  “That’s where I’ll look first.”

  Connor drove directly from the lodge to Liz’s office and marched into the reception area. “Good morning, Becky. I’d like to see Liz.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. Tell her it’s urgent.”

  Becky picked up the phone. Connor shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. A few seconds later, Liz appeared.

  “Sorry for not calling ahead,” he said.

  “Follow me.”

  They entered a large conference room. To Connor’s surprise, Harold Pollard was sitting at the head of the table. There was a speaker phone in front of the older lawyer. Harold pointed at the phone.

  “We’ve been on the phone with Detective Norman for the past ten minutes.”

  “What’s going on?” Connor asked as Liz closed the door behind him.

  “Norman has been meeting with the local DA and the GBI about charging you with Matt Thompson’s murder,” Harold said. “The GBI wants to arrest you, but the district attorney, Tom Nelson, isn’t on board.”

  Speechless, Connor sank down into a chair.

  “Detective Norman contacted us as a favor,” Liz added.

  “I don’t understand,” Connor managed.

  “Maybe it’s a jurisdictional turf war between law enforcement agencies,” Harold responded. “The local boys don’t like people in Atlanta telling them what to do and vice versa. We saw the same thing when they interviewed Elena Thompson.”

  “This is insane,” Connor muttered.

  “The disagreement between the local and state authorities could work to our advantage,” Harold said.

  Connor looked at Liz; he could tell she was on the verge of tears. When their eyes met, she grabbed a tissue from a box on a side table.

  Connor returned his attention to Harold. “How?” he asked.

  “Buying time. Every minute you’ve not been charged gives us an opportunity to rebut anything the GBI claims incriminates you.”

  “I know part of the reason they’ve become more aggressive,” Connor said. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Taking out his phone, he showed Harold and Liz the video forwarded by Andy McNamara. He watched Liz’s face closely while she watched it. She bit her lower lip a couple of times without looking at him.

  “Something’s not right,” Connor said when the video ended. “I wasn’t on that portion of the property the day of Matt’s death, and I wasn’t wearing that shirt and hat.”

  He explained what Reg Bullock was going to do.

  “That’s a good idea,” Harold said.

  “I wish I could call Anne Thompson and ask her about the number for the cell phone Josh and I found in the woods,” Connor said.

  “I can’t stop you,” Harold said. “But you can’t do it at our request.”

  The legal niceties of the attorney’s ethical rules were, at the moment, not important to Connor. Harold left the conference room.

  Connor turned to Liz. “Thanks,” he said. “It means so much that you and Harold are on my side.”

  * * *

  Liz walked with Connor back to the reception area. After he left, she returned to her office, shut the door, and closed her eyes. A sick feeling had hit her in the pit of her stomach during the call from Detective Norman. She didn’t know if she needed to throw up or burst into tears. Perhaps this was what a panic attack felt like. She’d heard the best response was to take slow, deep breaths. The phone on her desk buzzed. She reluctantly pressed the receive button.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Elena Thompson is on the phone and wants to speak to you,” Becky said.

  Anyone else, Liz would have sent to voice mail. She tried to steady herself.

  “Hello, Elena,” she said.

  “Why so formal?” the client responded in a light tone of voice. “I was getting back to you about the cell phone Connor found in the woods. I think I may know who it belongs to. Tyson Nash.”

  “Who?” Liz asked.

  “The private investigator I brought to your office.”

  “I didn’t know his last name.”

  “Tyson used multiple numbers to communicate with me. I should have recognized that as one of his phones as soon as you asked me about it.”

  “Why did he have multiple numbers?”

  “Probably something to do with his business and the need to conceal his identity if he was conducting an investigation.”

  “Do you remember calling him the day Matt died?”

  “It’s possible. We were talking a lot. I’d asked him to check on a couple of things with Matt and Anne.”

  “What sort of things?”

  “The usual stuff. Uncovering if there was more going on between them than sharing parenting duties for the girls. Matt had been so agreeable at our last session with Connor that I suspected he was up to something but didn’t know what it might be. My first thought was that it had to do with Anne.”

  “Anne’s number also showed up on the phone Connor found.”

  Elena was silent for a moment. “That makes sense. Tyson would use certain phones to contact someone and find out information without revealing who he was. You know, he’d create a fake identity and then ask questions.”

  “The phone also registered a call from Neil Peterson at Daughbert Technology.”

  “What?” Elena exploded. “Why would someone from Daughbert be talking to my investigator?”

  “The person that unlocked the phone identified everyone who called the number. The record only went back a couple of days. They identified you, Anne, and Peterson.”

  “Wait a minute,” Elena said more calmly. “I remember asking Tyson to check into something for me at Matt’s company. I forgot that. Tyson knew most of the higher-ups from the corporate office were going to be in Bryson for the retreat. He probably wanted to determine who might be left at the office. Peterson was part of the admin staff in sales for the company.”

  “Why would the investigator care who was at the Atlanta office?” Liz asked. “All the important people were here in Bryson.”

  “Uh, I guess I can tell you because you’re my attorney. I gave Tyson a key to the company office in Atlanta so he could go in on Saturday and locate some financial documents I wanted to see. I’d overheard Matt having a conversation with Winston’s assistant, who mentioned a pro forma financial statement about foreign business activity. It really upset him.”

  “What’s a pro forma financial statement?” Liz asked.

  “An estimate of how good or bad a company may do in the future. Matt wanted to see the figures, and she said the information was in Winston’s office but that he would go over it with Matt during the retreat. It was the sort of data you and I would need, and I asked Tyson to get a copy before Matt or anyone else changed the figures. I figured if I gave Tyson a key to the office, he wouldn’t be breaking in illegally.”